


Will Cora Ever Work Up the Courage?

by queenofthefallenfics



Category: The Good Cop (TV)
Genre: (but not really), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cora Does Not Know What She's Doing, Cora Knows Exactly What She's Doing, Deviates From Canon, F/M, Feels, Idiots in Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, TJ Deserves the World, Unrequited Love, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthefallenfics/pseuds/queenofthefallenfics
Summary: Sequel (like no one wanted) to my last Good Cop fic.Cora takes a minute and realizes she loves TJ. And she . . . doesn't handle it well, poor thing.
Relationships: Anthony "TJ" Caruso Jr./Cora Vasquez
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Will Cora Ever Work Up the Courage?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Will TJ Ever Catch a Break?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21655057) by [queenofthefallenfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthefallenfics/pseuds/queenofthefallenfics). 



> I don't own The Good Cop.

The first time Cora saw Anthony Caruso Jr., she was sitting outside of her principal’s office, waiting for her stepfather to pull himself together and pick her up from school. It was her first fight of the semester but it _was_ past Thanksgiving. She knew that her restraint wouldn’t be complimented because after drinking, his favorite activity was yelling at her. And even though if she were anyone else and beat the shit out of three senior football players as one of the shortest juniors in her class, he’d be over the moon about it. But since it was Cora, the step-daughter he never wanted, he’d rather choke to death on his vomit before complimenting her.

The secretaries were huddled together, looking up at the television mounted on the ceiling. Some story on the news, about a corrupt cop or something, was blaring and even though Cora wished it would just shut off, she watched it. The television at home was crap and only got a handful of channels. The school television cut away from a panel of news hosts and featured two people, probably the wife and kid of the corrupt cop, leaving a courthouse. 

Cora watched the pair of them, impressed at the restraint they showed. If someone ever shoved a camera or microphone or recorder into her face, she’d knock them on their ass quicker than you could say “No comment.” But then, like a premonition, one journalist had a tape recorder a bit too close to the woman’s face and the boy, all sharp cheekbones and shining glasses, got in between them.

“ _No. Comment_ ,” he ground out. “What part of that is so hard for you _vultures_ to understand. Wait ten minutes for my father to come out. He’d be more than happy to answer any questions you may have.” With one last glare, the son pushed past the throng of reporters.

 _Damn, that takes some balls_ , Cora thought, watching the coat flap around the boy, probably in college. _Pretty hot, actually._

Now, watching as he apologized for his actions which were annoying, but justified, she noted a different type of ballsy attitude. But TJ snorted and shook his head, the self-deprecation coming off of him in waves and she wasn’t able to pin it down, too distracted. “Well, I’m glad that you view me as some type of authority figure. Even if it’s your hated high school principal,” he said.

“I see you as an authority figure,” Cora protested, immediately thinking of the old television in her high school. TJ gave her a look and Cora rolled her eyes, hoping he didn’t notice her pink ears. “I do!” she promised. “Not one I listen to often, maybe—”

“Maybe?” TJ echoed, skeptical.

“ _Maybe_ ,” Cora insisted, “but I do respect you, TJ.”

In a particularly reckless move, she reached out and grabbed his hand. It was warm and calloused and she couldn’t tell if the calluses were more from the pens he held doing paperwork or if it was from his shooting practice. After all, he still held the range record of 982. She wondered if in January his hands were this warm or if they would succumb to the New York cold.

And then, as if to _top_ her recklessness of seconds ago, she added, “I guess I just need help showing you the way I respect you.” Her eyes were wide and she forced her pupils to dilate themselves, a little trick she learned from Cosmo when she was fifteen and hadn’t stopped using ever since. For a moment, it seemed to work. TJ dropped Cora’s hand quicker than if it was on fire and shoved his sandwich in his mouth.

Cora just hoped that it was to stop him from saying something stupid, not to yell at her about infractions and sexual harassment. And as he tried to also drink some coffee, Cora couldn’t help the confused look that crossed her face—since when was salami and coffee, at the same time, a good combo? Thankfully, TJ turned his attention to the files on his desk, leftovers from the Clark case. Cora took the opportunity to pull out her book and covertly watch TJ.

Watch TJ bite on his lip as his pen raced across the page. Watch TJ as his eyes squinted as he wrote. Watch TJ take a sip of his coffee, his throat swallow and constrict. Cora focused on her book the moment she wondered if his throat would constrict like that during oral.

She had to be professional!

She couldn’t be sent away because TJ found out that she liked him. While she wasn’t positive that he would send her elsewhere, she also knew that their relationship would change. And Cora would rather have him constantly frustrated with her and watch how he stumbled over his words and how he flushed so prettily whenever she embarrassed him than never see him again. Because if she was sent away, she wouldn’t see him again. At first, sure.

Awkwardness aside, Tony would make sure she was welcome at poker nights and Caruso Family events. And then, slowly but surely, she’d go to less and less of them until they never saw each other again. And the days would turn into weeks, into months, and the next thing she knew would be hearing word of TJ marrying some equally rule orientated woman who would probably turn out to be some dominatrix or something.

Cora bit her lip and barely held in her laughter as she turned back to poor Angelique and her troubles with falling in love with English baron instead of the French prince she was supposed to marry. Just as she was about to tell her father who she really loved, TJ interrupted her by standing up, putting away the plates and giving the barista a smile.

“What were you reading?” he asked as they left the shop.

“Oh, some dime-store romance novel,” Cora told him unflinchingly. They were good books if she needed something mindless. And the need for something mindless cropped up more and more often nowadays.

“Cora Vasquez, a romantic at heart?”

He was surprised and Cora had meant to keep it that way. But there was nothing else to do while she waited for him to finish his paperwork and she didn’t want to leave him. So she had to pull out her book. “Sometimes,” she admitted. She paused and took a gamble—“Less and less with every failed relationship, though.”

That was more than enough and she knew TJ would immediately recall all her relationships—Warren most recently, most glaringly.

He just hummed and stopped on a curb, teetering on the edge for a moment. “My mom used to say that being a romantic doesn’t mean you should wait for Prince Charming to come and sweep you off your feet. Sometimes . . . sometimes you have to go and find that Pauper and wait until he turns into your Prince Charming.” TJ looked down at her and Cora never realized how big his eyes were, how striking they were. “She said that patience was a virtue, but a bittersweet one. Sometimes, you can be as patient as you can be, but your partner isn’t.”

He wobbled on the curb for a moment and Cora reached out, steadying him. “Smart lady,” she said, knowing that wasn’t nearly enough to describe Connie Caruso. “I see that you got your patience from her then, huh?” 

“Too much of it,” he said and Cora, instantly, read into what he was saying.

Her heart jumped into her throat and Cora looked up at him. Normally, she hated how short she was; her closet was filled with heels for a good reason. But today, for some reason, she wore boots without a heel, and because of that, she was shorter than TJ. Looking into his eyes . . . Cora felt more than a little stupid, but also it was nice. They both had brown eyes, but his were light enough that Cora could see little flecks of gold in them.

 _Such a princely color_ , she thought, _for a princely man_. 

Then, thankfully, some jerk of a pedestrian pushed between them. Instinctively, Cora yelled, “Hey!” bristling with indignation.

Whatever fairytale moment they were having just seconds ago was gone and TJ was half-off the curb already. Cora cursed herself for letting something like that slip in her head. TJ— _Caruso_ was her boss. And she was just a pretty girl with an insubordinate streak a mile wide. So they kept walking, and she kept her mouth shut and tried to think of ways to make it up to TJ. When they reached the precinct, helplessness nearly drowned her and Cora knew she had to act and act soon. 

She grabbed his sleeve and pulled them over to the side. “I’ll try to be nicer,” she said, hoping he would believe her. “And show you more respect. The alligator was a bit of a dick-move.” _As funny as it was_.

“And the reptile joke,” TJ reminded her, light glinting off his glasses so she couldn’t see if he was joking or not. Cora couldn’t help the way her brow arched, but she stopped herself from rolling her eyes, which was something.

Cora also couldn’t help how “And TJ? Keep being patient. Maybe you’ll find your Prince Charming sooner rather than later,” just slipped out. She quickly gave him a pat on the shoulder and rushed inside, hoping he wouldn’t follow her and demand an answer.

Because she wouldn’t be able to give him one.

She entered the squad room without too much fuss, but she did laugh when she saw the poster someone hung on TJ’s door. Before she could say something, Burl beat her to the punch. “Where did you go?” Burl asked, frowning her undoubtedly red cheeks.

“A little cafe for some sandwiches and to review my eval,” Cora said.

“Anything else? You have a little secret you maybe shared with the professor?” Burl questioned.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Burl was perceptive enough that Cora was so annoyed that TJ wasn’t. At least then she would have learned to hide how she felt for TJ even sooner.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cora lied.

Burl rolled his eyes but slouched back in his chair. “Sure you don’t,” he said. 

“Who hung the cat poster?” Cora asked.

“The Captain,” Ryan said, popping up out of nowhere. “Said that it was a private joke for TJ. And gave everyone express orders to make sure that it stayed up for a least a week.”

Cora snorted, then fell silent when TJ walked into the squad room. He stopped short after noticing the poster and looked around the room wearing a flat and annoyed expression. “Ok, very funny,” he said, not sounding like he enjoyed the joke. “Who did this? I’m not going to be mad if someone just tells me who thought this would be funny?” 

Cora couldn’t help but wonder where he learned to sound like such a hard-ass father, with his own being so lax on the rules. 

“I heard all the ruckus that Vasquez was making this morning,” Delgetty drawled as she leaned against the wall, sipping from her mug, “and figured you needed some motivation to get through it all.”

TJ immediately turned a vicious pink and Cora wondered about that. “Right,” he coughed, “well, thank you, Captain, for your support.” Cora watched him take down the poster, only to hang it back up on the window in his office. 

Cora smiled and turned back around, focusing on the leftover paperwork that she should have brought to the cafe, had she stopped to _think_ for a moment. Instead of being so reckless, as she always was. The sudden reminder of her recklessness brought a smattering of tears to her eyes and she blinked them away, hoping that Burl was actually napping and not just “meditating” with his eyes closed.

Cora was certain that if she wasn’t as reckless as she currently was, maybe she’d have come up with a plan to convince TJ of her feelings ages ago. Or she would have found some way of ascertaining if he cared about her. Something to explain his speech about patience, something to explain the lingering looks and the feeling of eyes on her. Something to understand TJ Caruso. But instead, she sat at her desk like some coward; always eager to fuck up and never willing to take responsibility.

Cora couldn’t blink fast enough for the tears to disappear. She stood up, grabbing her jacket. “Calling it an early night, boys,” she said, studiously focused on zipping up. “See you tomorrow.” Before anyone could protest, she was out and heading towards her apartment, determined to get drunk in less than ten minutes. An easy feat when all she wanted to do was forget.

And as the music pounded against her ears, not even an hour after she got home, she knew that she was definitely drunk. But as the music stopped, then started much more hesitantly, Cora stopped jumping around. The music wasn’t a loud drum line—just someone knocking on the door. She put the bottle down and walked to the door, taking a peek through the peephole. “TJ?” she said, slurring just a bit as she threw open the door, “what are you doing here?”

“You left so quickly,” he said, face turning red as he was determined to look right into her eyes. “I realized you left your bag behind.”

“Oh,” Cora said, surprised he would come all this way to just give her the bag she left behind. “Thanks, TJ. C’mon in!”

“You—you really should put some pants on? Cora?” TJ said and Cora stopped, causing TJ to bump into her.

When she looked down, Cora realized that she was, in fact, just wearing her shirt and panties. “Huh,” she mumbled. “Then where did—oh!”

Cora raced into her bedroom and picked up her pants from the floor. She must’ve left them there around the fifth shot, five-shots-Cora always ran a little warm. She pulled them on and smiled as she watched TJ pick up then stack the stray plates and cups she left around the apartment. It was like after dinner at the Drake—without being asked, TJ just started to do dishes. Cora, feeling obligated and more than a little intrigued, dried them as he told her that doing dishes was something that even Tony didn’t have a problem with and that he’d use the time after dinner to catch up with a teenage TJ.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” TJ apologized reflexively, noticing that she was watching him. “It’s just that, well, you really should try to soak them, at the very least.”

“I’ll try it out,” Cora said, a note of genuine promise leaking through. He must have heard it because he got twitchy in the way that showed his emotions were coming out to play. “So thanks for coming by. I’ll see you—”

“Cora, are you okay?” TJ’s question dropped from his mouth like a five-ton hunk of rock between them. He looked surprised that he even asked it, but pressed his lips together firmly.

Cora was drunkenly drawn to them and drifted over to him. Barefoot and drunk, looking up at him with beseeching eyes, she wondered what picture the pair of them made. She smiled, soft and inviting, then said, “With you here? Of course.”

TJ was blinking rapidly behind his glasses and Cora wished he would just stop—it was getting hard for her to see his eyes.

“TJ, stop blinking, you’re not having a stroke,” she snapped and he stiffened, eyes wide open like his eyelids were taped open.

“Cora,” he said, so soft she could barely hear him. “Don’t report me.” Before she could ask what he meant, his hands (warm and calloused and somehow just the right size) came up and cupped her cheeks and kissed her.

His lips were softer than she thought; she’d never seen TJ with chapstick, not once. But they were so soft and his kiss was just as soft. Utterly unlike the force behind Cora’s lips as she kissed him back. She kissed him back, harder than she would’ve thought possible. TJ was fine with it, however, eagerly responding by slipping his tongue into her mouth. Cora moaned and couldn’t help how her head fell back. But, of course, TJ adapted and started to kiss her neck, instead.

“Ugh, TJ,” Cora moaned.

Her speaking must have startled him and TJ jumped back, holding his hands out in front of him like they were on fire. “Oh, oh God. Cora. I kissed you—you’re drunk—holy—I didn’t mean—”

“TJ, calm down,” Cora said, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay, I’m not _that_ drunk anyway. I know what I’m doing, I _knew_ what I was doing. It’s okay, TJ, please.” A note of begging entered her voice and it sounded so desperate, she wanted to throw-up. Or maybe it was the alcohol. But either way, TJ stopped panicking and looked down at her. “Please, TJ, let’s, let’s just sleep on it. Please.”

TJ hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, okay.”

Cora relaxed muscles in her body she didn’t even know where tense. “Thank you,” she mumbled, hugging him low around his waist. She leaned into him so much that TJ actually staggered under her weight; something she decided to attribute to his surprise at having to practically hold her up.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s get you to bed.”

Cora just hummed, letting him guide her into bed, wrapping her up in the covers like he did after what Warren did to her. “Stay,” she asked him, looking at him imploringly. “Please.”

“Cora . . .”

“It’ll be just like the Drake. Please, TJ.”

TJ’s will crumpled like a sheet of aluminum. “Okay,” he said, nodding. Cora watched him undress to a conservative set of pajamas, his undershirt and boxers. He slid under the covers and Cora just migrated to him. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, though, right,” he asked drowsily.

“Of course,” Cora said, nodding into his chest. “Whatever you want, however long you want.”

“Good,” TJ hummed and within moments, they were both asleep.

By morning, Cora was waking up in bed alone, with a hangover pounding at her head and humiliation in the back of her throat. She looked around and saw that the pile of TJ’s clothes were gone. Cora swallowed the bile in her throat and then pulled on the jeans from last night that lay crumpled on the floor from where TJ wriggled them off of her. She walked into the kitchen to get the coffee started when she stopped short, then smiled in relief.

There TJ was, still wearing his undershirt and boxers, staring at her almost empty fridge. “You have nothing in your fridge,” he said.

Cora shrugged, giving him an impish smile. “I’m not the most homely of people, Caruso. You couldn’t tell?”

TJ shrugged, then walked over to her. “Is your head okay?” he asked.

Cora smiled at the glass of water and tablets of aspirin he was holding out for her. “I’ve had worse,” she said, taking them. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he nodded. They stood silently for a moment, just looking at each other, then TJ’s anxiety inserted itself into their conversation. He bounced away, walking over to the stove. “So, yeah, there wasn’t much in the fridge, but I did make some eggs. I know how much you liked them the last time I made them for you. You still like them, right?”

“I like whatever you cook—better than anything that I can come up with,” she laughed.

TJ blushed and brought out a set of plates. “Here you go,” he said. He sat down next to her, drumming his fingers anxiously on the counter. “I—do they need more salt? Or pepper? I can get some—”

Cora reached out and touched his hand. “It’s fine, TJ,” she promised him. She didn’t try to continue the conversation, she just ate her meal. At once point, she made a noise of pleasure, specifically aimed at seeing what he would do. And, of course, TJ went absolutely fuchsia and Cora tried to hide her smirk. When they were both done, however, she took their dishes, making an effort to make an effort around her apartment with him there. When she left the kitchen, he was sitting on the couch, fiddling with the edge of his boxers and biting his bottom lip, nervous as hell.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Cora blurted out, saying something she thought would help him. She was more than comfortable being unhappy if TJ was happy because of it. “It’s fine with me.”

“No!” TJ exclaimed. “I don’t want to leave, Cora—I don’t.”

She really couldn’t help her smile; she was really just too happy about it. She walked over and sat down, going as far as to put her head on his shoulder. “So,” she asked quietly, “what do we do now.”

TJ took a breath and then rested his head against hers. “Tomorrow we tell the Captain, and only the Captain. Then my father later that night. Then we take it one day at a time and be as professional as possible,” he listed.

“Me, professional?” Cora laughed.

“Cora,” was all TJ said, but it was enough for Cora to mutter an apology to him.

They kept sitting until they heard TJ’s phone ring. “Give me a sec,” he muttered, dropping a quick kiss on her head.

Cora sat, glowing quietly, for a few minutes, then when TJ walked in with an apologetic smile. “I have to get back home. My dad’s a little upset,” he shrugged. Her smile dimmed, slightly, but he added questionly, quietly, “You can come with me?”

Cora blinked, then blushed violently. “I—I would like that, TJ,” she admitted softly.


End file.
